


i stand in the valley (and you are not there at all)

by callmeautumn



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (he's autistic coded but i never explicitly mention it.), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Bending (Avatar TV), Alternate Universe - No Powers, Autistic Zuko (Avatar), Court Cases, Dehumanizing Language, EXPLICIT TRANSPHOBIA, Explicit Violence Toward Children, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Past Child Abuse, Running, Serious Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sokka Has Brown Eyes, Song: A Burning Hill (Mitski), Suicide Goading, Track Star Zuko, Trans Zuko (Avatar), Vomiting, autistic character written by an autistic author, investigative reporting, past transphobia, trans character written by a trans author, trans main character, transphobic slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27790813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmeautumn/pseuds/callmeautumn
Summary: KATARA, V-O: My interest in this story began almost two months ago with a petition. It featured an image of Zuko in his track uniform, smiling beside his uncle. This petition’s headline reads ‘Keep Zuko Running’ and features a small blurb which reads as follows:IROH: Zuko is a trans student who was recruited by Harvard University to run track. He has run on the team for three semesters, but is being forced off the team after he was involuntarily outed to Head Coach Lin Zhao.KATARA, V-O: This is Iroh Sozin, Zuko’s uncle.IROH: Sign this petition to keep Zuko running on the men’s track team.KATARA: Do you know who started this petition?IROH LAUGHS JOVIALLYIROH: Of course I know! I started it!KATARA: And how did Zuko feel about that?[IROH SIGHS HEAVILY, SOBERS]IROH: Zuko… did not want to make a fuss. My nephew is very used to things that he loves being taken from him, especially because he was not born in a man’s body. I think a part of him expected it. He was ready to let it go; “move on with his life,” he said. But I was not ready to let him lose that part of himself so quickly. Zuko loves to run. He would not be Zuko without it.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 199





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> !!! PLEASE READ ME !!!  
> This work is really heavy. I will write warnings in the chapter notes as well as provide landmarks for skipping and picking back up if it's too much. This was a labour of love, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This was inspired by a brilliant podcast I binge-listened called In The Dark - I would highly recommend it. I was really inspired by the formatting of investigative journalism, and combining that with a more formal narrative style. The fic goes back and forth between a transcript style denoting Katara and Suki's podcast, and traditional-format for Zuko's pov. I hope it mostly makes sense! PLEASE feel free to let me know if I missed any tags - I'm always happy to add them!

KATARA: His name is Zuko Sozin. He’s originally from San Ramon, California, but when he was thirteen he and his Uncle moved across the nation to Boston. Now, he’s twenty and a sophomore at Harvard University where he’s majoring in English with a double minor in Political Science and Mandarin. He’s a member of the National Society of Leadership and Success Honors Society and has been a vocal advocate for student access to disability services. Zuko is also on the men’s track team, where he is an up-and-coming star on the long-distance circuit. When he isn’t busy on campus, he works at his uncle’s tea shop, The Jasmine Dragon. Most Harvard students and teachers will recognize this name -- it is one of the most popular study spots in the vicinity, and is frequently brimming over with students working and drinking well-priced, quality teas. 

[A FEW, HIGH NOTES BEGIN TO SWELL BEHIND KATARA’S VOICE, QUIET BUT INTENSE] 

SUKI: Zuko is also trans. More to the point, he is trans and locked in a lawsuit with Harvard University because they’re Head Coach, Lin Zhao, tried to remove Zuko Sozin from the men’s track team. 

[THE MUSIC RISES SLOWLY, GAINING A BIT OF A BEAT] 

KATARA: I’m Katara Nutaraq. 

SUKI: And I’m Suki Jin. 

KATARA: This is ‘Deep Dive’. 

{} 

Zuko wakes in glances - a flash of light, overhead, wrong; Uncle’s face, drawn with concern even in sleep; his own hand, curled on a sheet he does not recognize, the end of a needle poking from the thin skin on the back of his balled fist. He cannot hold onto consciousness for longer than a few seconds, a few moments of hazy color and watery sound before he slips back into darkness. 

When he comes fully into wakefulness, he is already upright. The hospital room is cool. The skin on his arms prickles. He can feel the lack of his left eye, the darkness and unseeing. He tries to lift his left hand, but it pulls against a cord of some sort. He tries to lift his head from the pillows. Uncle is there suddenly, appearing from the dark of his left side. Zuko flinches away but his body responds sluggishly, throbbing out of rhythm. Uncle’s hand is warm and rough over his. He is hushing Zuko, pushing his forehead gently against the pillows. 

“Shh, my nephew. Relax.” 

Zuko tries to nod, tries to agree. 

“Do you remember what happened?” 

_Anxiety bubbling, words tumbling, voices raising, hands reaching, an unforgiving grip, so hot it’s cold, the smell of burning flesh._ Yes. He remembers. Zuko opens his mouth to speak, but only a croak emerges. His face feels stiff, his jaw opening opening only on his right. Uncle shushes him once more and slips something cold between Zuko’s lips. He does not have the energy to be mortified; not when his body feels heavy enough to pull him to the center of the earth, separate from him and somehow lost in the brush of blankets. 

The ice disappears to water and slides down his throat. Another chip is coaxed in, then a third. 

“Speak now.” Uncle sits in the chair and smiles sadly. 

“I remember.” 

Uncle just nods. “I’m afraid this is the type of event you are not likely to forget.” 

{} 

[FAINTLY, A DOOR OPENS AND VOICES, ONE MALE AND TWO FEMALE, EXCHANGE PLEASANTRIES. THE SOUNDS OF TEA BEING SERVED AND SMALL TALK CONTINUE QUIETLY BENEATH THE VOICE-OVER] 

KATARA, V-O: My interest in this story began almost two months ago with a petition. It featured an image of Zuko in his track uniform, smiling beside his uncle. At first glance, they don’t seem to share much family resemblance. Zuko is tall and wiry, with a shock of dark hair and a scar that covers nearly a quarter of his face. His smile is lopsided but relaxed. Next to him, his uncle is small, stocky. He has a broad, barrel chest and wears a shirt which proudly proclaims ‘Harvard Dad’, though this is something of an inside joke between them. His uncle’s hair is entirely white and he wears it in a shiny sheet down his back.. He is glowing with pride while Zuko glows with sweat. This petition’s headline reads ‘Keep Zuko Running’ and features a small blurb which reads as follows: 

IROH: Zuko is a trans student who was recruited by Harvard University to run track. He has run on the team for three semesters, but is being forced off the team after he was involuntarily outed to Head Coach Lin Zhao. 

KATARA, V-O: This is Iroh Sozin, Zuko’s uncle. 

IROH: Sign this petition to keep Zuko running on the men’s track team. 

KATARA: Do you know who started this petition?

[IROH LAUGHS JOVIALLY] 

IROH: Of course I know! I started it! 

KATARA: And how did Zuko feel about that? 

[IROH SIGHS HEAVILY, SOBERS] 

IROH: Zuko… did not want to make a fuss. My nephew is very used to things that he loves being taken from him, especially because he was not born in a man’s body. I think a part of him expected it. He was ready to let it go; “move on with his life,” he said. But I was not ready to let him lose that part of himself so quickly. Zuko loves to run. He would not be Zuko without it. 

{} 

Zuko is running. He doesn’t know where, nor does he particularly care. The streets all look the same - old, multi-family houses made of paint-chipped wood and smelling like a cook-out. It is hot. He is running. He turns a corner, and finds himself at the bottom of another massive hill. He runs up it, turns and continues running. Sweat is dripping down his t-shirt, under his chest, down his forehead. Still he runs. 

When he is running, he doesn’t have to think. There is no anger, no fear, no shame; there is only movement. One foot in front of the other, one arm forward and the other back, inhale, exhale. Reach one home, then the next, pass under one tree and beside the next. Phlegm is building in his mouth but he does not spit it. He swallows, swallows the hurt and the pain, and keeps moving. When he finally stops, legs refusing to carry him further, he realizes that he does not know where he is. He is at the top of a hill, looking over the city. The sky is unbearably blue, the trees shockingly green, and his heart is pounding painfully against his ribs. The skin over his left eye is burning with sweat, itchy and raw feeling beneath the wrap. Uncle will be upset because he just re-wrapped it, but he will not make a fuss. Zuko turns away from the view and heads back the way he came. He’s learning to recognize a few homes, ones that are particularly big, or interestingly colored. He’s never seen so many Victorian homes, nor so many houses in shockingly bright colors. Everything seems so bright here, so different from California. 

As he is making his way toward the sounds of a main road, someone waves from their porch. She is a tall woman, immensely so, and one of the few other Asian people he has seen in this area. He waves back tentatively. She holds up a finger, moves toward him to meet him on the sidewalk. She stands far enough away that he does not have to crane his neck. 

“I’ve seen you running every day,” she says. Her voice is deep, rich and melodic. “Did you just move around here?” 

Zuko nods, pitches his voice deeper than it naturally wants to sit. “Yeah.” It comes out hoarse, but he’d rather sound sick than sound like a girl.

She nods. “You run track where you came from?”

“No.” 

“So you just run like this… for fun?” He doesn’t think it counts as fun. It hurts, and it doesn’t always feel good, but he likes it; likes the satisfaction of his thighs and lungs burning, likes the freedom of it. He nods. 

“Do you know what high school you’re going to yet?” 

He steps back, darts his eyes to the empty porches that surround them. This conversation is getting suspicious, getting _dangerous_. She’s tall, with long legs that are clearly muscled. He is already tired from his run, but it’s mostly downhill from here. His phone is in his pocket, 50% charged according to his last peek. He slips his hand in his pocket, grips the phone in his sweaty palm. 

“I’m Coach Kyoshi. I run the boys and girls track teams at Munoz Academy. If you’re going there, and that’s obviously a big if, you should consider joining the girls team. You’ve got the right build for long distance, and you’re clearly got the drive.” 

The fury wells up, quick and bliding, shame following so quickly after that they merge and become one terrible, glorious moment. “I’m not a girl!” 

Kyoshi looks at him, cocking a single eyebrow. His tongue feels numb. His eyes are hot, hot like his skin, hot like his heart throbbing within his ribs. 

She nods. “Join the boys team, then.” And before Zuko can say anything more, she walks calmly up her walk, up the stairs, and into her home. 

{} 

[AMBIENT CAR NOISES SLOWLY FADE IN. A TURN SIGNAL COMES ON, THE CAR ENGINE BECOMES LOUDER, AND THE TURN SIGNAL CLICKS OFF] 

KATARA: So, where are we headed right now? 

SUKI: We’re on our way to visit Coach Kyoshi Song! She was Zuko’s first track coach; she's continuing to train him while he’s on probation from the Harvard team. 

KATARA: And what are we hoping to learn about? 

SUKI: I mean, I want to hear about Zuko - what he’s like on a team, what he’s like as a runner-- 

KATARA: Fast, probably. 

[SUKI LAUGHS HEARTILY. THE CAR ENGINE BECOMES LOUDER BRIEFLY, THEN RETURNS TO ITS USUAL LEVEL] 

SUKI: You’re right, he probably is fast. But I mean, she was his first coach, right? So she knows his running origin story - why he does it, what he gets out of it. But, more importantly, I want to know what she thinks of Zhao. 

KATARA, V-O: Zhao, as in Head Coach Lin Zhao. He was the one who took Zuko off the team after he was forcibly outed as trans, then put him back onto the team on probation after public outcry rose up on Zuko’s behalf. 

[THE CAR ROLLS TO A STOP ATOP GRAVEL, THEN THE ENGINE CUTS OUT] 

KATARA: Alright, there she is on the porch. Oh, wow! She’s super tall. 

SUKI: What an icon. 

KATARA, V-O: Our surprise isn’t exactly unfounded. Kyoshi Song is six-foot-nine, and almost all of that height is in her legs. She’s wearing shorts in deference to the rising summer heat as well as a large Margarita Munoz Academy t-shirt tucked loosely into her waistband. She’s been working at Margarita Munoz Academy for twelve years now. She teaches Earth Science, AP Geography, and AP Biology, as well as coaching the track team. According to Coach Kyoshi, her introduction to Zuko was unorthodox. 

KYOSHI: He was running in these big, baggy shorts that looked like cut-off sweatpants and a massive sweatshirt. He would pass my house in the middle of the day, sweating buckets and trudging up these crazy hills. He didn’t have any real form but he was dedicated. These hills aren’t exactly forgiving but he trudged up them in the humid July air. At this point he was still really injured. His eye was still wrapped up and he had this really terrible haircut, but I knew that with some training he could be a really great runner. 

SUKI: So, you saw him running, he looked clearly disheveled but determined... and then what? 

KYOSHI: I waved him down as he was coming back down the hill, and asked him if he was new to the area, if he was a runner, that sort of thing. I could tell he wasn’t crazy about that line of questioning, and to be fair a seven-foot woman asking you questions about what high school you go to must have been a little scary. But I told him, “Look, I’m Coach Kyoshi and if you want to run and you’re going to Munoz, I’ll coach you.” 

SUKI: And that was that? 

KYOSHI: That was that. I taught his gym period so I saw him that first day of school and such. But he showed up for tryouts in a t-shirt and shorts that actually fit him and that same pair of beat-up converse he wore up on this hill. He was always quiet, always reserved, you know. But he was, and is, sweet and ready to work. And good Lord, did he work. I had to kick him off the track, force him back home because he would run until he couldn’t breathe. At first I thought maybe his home life was shitty, maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to leave. But then I met Iroh and he explained the situation more thoroughly. After that it was clear that whatever Zuko was running from, it was inside him. 

KATARA: It sounds like he was always a really determined kid. 

KYOSHI: Oh, absolutely. I’m not an easy coach, by any stretch of the imagination. Really, calling me a hardass is an understatement. But he did the work. He showed up every day, even when I could tell it was hard for him. He did the work and he cared about it. There was a fire under his ass. It was a few years before I knew where that fire came from, but it burned bright in him. 

KATARA, V-O: That fire Kyoshi’s talking about? Put a pin in that. 

KYOSHI: Of course, he excelled quickly. He’s naturally given to long-distance; slight build, long legs, good lung capacity, all that. He was good on hurdles but struggled with sprints. Yet, that was the thing he wanted to work on most. He was determined to be good at everything and sprinting was a weak point. So, he worked religiously at sprinting: getting up to speed, getting his form right, reaction times - all of it. And, with time, he succeeded. I run a camp over the summer to keep kids in shape, get them moving, that sort of thing. Zuko showed up every summer except for the summer he got top surgery, and even then I had to beg him to stay in bed and not rush his recovery.

KATARA, V-O: For those who don’t know, top surgery is shorthand in the trans community for reconstructive surgery to remove breast tissue in order to resolve the life-threatening tension between one’s body and one’s actual gender. 

SUKI: And that was the summer between sophomore and junior year? 

KYOSHI: Correct. 

[MUSIC BEGINS TO RISE SOFTLY, COVERING THE SOUNDS OF INSECTS AND WIND]

SUKI: So it was after he had top surgery that Zhao stepped into the picture. 

[KYOSHI SIGHS HEAVILY] 

KYOSHI: Also correct. 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is crying too hard to speak. He cannot breathe. He cannot breathe; he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t-- Uncle’s chest is warm and smells of jasmine pearls. He holds him, holds Zuko as the proceedings spin on without him. Piandao is speaking, but Zuko can barely hear him through all the padding on that side of his face. Zuko can only stutter through breaths against Uncle’s chest, feel Uncle’s small hand running up and down his back, feel them breathe against one another. 
> 
> “It’s alright, Zuko,” Uncle is saying. “It’s alright. You don’t have to speak anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, explicit child abuse! This chapter details Ozai's abuse, and mentions unaliving oneself. If violence towards infants isn't your thing, skip from Jeong Jeong's first line in the second section to "SUKI: At the time, Ozai did nothing." 
> 
> The next instance of abuse is Ozai giving Zuko his scar. If you wish to skip this, skip everything between "THE MUSIC FADES TO A COMPLETE STOP" and "SUKI: Iroh would go on to press charges." There will be a sanitized summary in the end notes of what you missed.

Zuko shakes out his legs and his arms. The air is cool this early in the morning, but his body is hot. Beneath his sweats, perspiration is dripping down his legs. He is warm, limber. He feels good. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Coach Kyoshi talking to the assistant head coach from Harvard. If he could get that scholarship he would be set. He could go to college close to home, close to Uncle. He shifts, looks up to the crowd. It’s hard to spot Uncle in the stands, but then Uncle waves him down with one hand. He is smiling, holding two big thumbs up. Zuko returns the gesture close to his chest, smiling. 

The announcer calls his heat and Zuko makes his way onto the track, just at the edge of the line where the sun meets the earth. The track smells like rubber and rain. He strips off his sweatshirt and bends down to stretch the bottom elastic of his sweatpants over his shoes. When he stands, Coach Kyoshi is there blocking the sun with her form. 

“Are you feeling ready?” 

Zuko shrugs. He never feels ready - not really. Assistant Head Coach Zhao’s eyes on him aren’t making him feel any better about the race. It’s his first time running post-op, the first time he’ll be running competitively without the constriction of a binder. 

“Hey. Look at me?” Kyoshi leans in, eyes green and intense. “You are ready for this. You have an advantage: you’re used to running without full access to oxygen. You ran at 75% ox and you still smoked all these runners. Now you’re at 100%. You know how that math works.” 

Zuko nods. 

“Alright.” She tips her head toward where Zhao is standing, leaning against the fence. Zuko’s eyes dart toward him and then dart back to Kyoshi. “Don’t worry about him. He won’t make or break you.” Zuko doesn’t quite agree, but he doesn’t dare voice that. “You just put one foot in front of the other, focus on your form. You follow those lines and you let them take you where you need to go.” 

Zuko nods again, feeling far more comfortable with this vein of thought. He can’t control what Zhao thinks, can’t hold it in his hands. But running he can do. He can put one foot in front of the other; one arm then the next; inhale, exhale; move. Kyoshi lays a hand on his shoulder, on his good side. He does not flinch. It is an act of will. 

“I believe in you. I’m proud of the work you put in. You’ve shown up, you did the work. Let that work carry you.” 

Zuko pulls air into his body, pushes it back out. He can feel himself buoyed by the praise. He can do this. Uncle believes in him. Kyoshi believes in him. Now, all he has to do is bring it together. He’s called to his mark, drops down into a crouch. Inhale. Exhale. Head down. Fingers right on the line. Feet in place. 

The shot rings. Zuko is flying. 

{}

KATARA, V-O: As we’ve talked to all these people, we realized there was something we were missing - some crucial element to Zuko’s character that we’ve somehow missed. It came up in our talks with Iroh Sozin, his uncle; with Coach Kyoshi, his first track coach; with Mr. Piandao, his lawyer. All of them are referring to some crucial moment, some  _ thing _ that shaped him. We realized that if we wanted to really understand Zuko, and understand why he’s been so reluctant to be the center of his case, we had to go back to his past. So, that’s what we’re doing today. 

[MUSIC SWELLS, A FEW NOTES RISING, THEN SWIRLING INTO A MELODY. THEY SUBSIDE AS KATARA BEGINS SPEAKING IN VOICE-OVER.] 

KATARA, V-O: Before we get into it, there’s some things we need to establish. First, this episode involves mention of a person taking their own life. This episode also outlines an instance of violent child abuse. Listener discretion is advised. 

SUKI, V-O: Second, our team isn’t going to release Zuko’s deadname - the name he was given by his parents when he was born. We’re doing this for a few reasons. Number one, it’s a breach of his privacy. Number two, most trans and non-binary people who change their name agree that hearing their deadname used in reference to themselves is a traumatic experience. That’s the last thing we want to do. Instead, we’ll be using Zuko’s current name and, for clarity’s sake, dividing his life into two sections: before he was out as a trans man and after. 

[THE MUSIC SWELLS AGAIN, THIS TIME FINDING A BEAT SIMILAR TO THE OPENING MUSIC THOUGH WITH LESS URGENCY] 

KATARA, V-O: Our story begins in the year 1999, in San Ramon, California, with the Sozin family. Azulon Sozin is the President and CEO of a private wealth management company. He had two sons, Iroh and Ozai. In 1999, Iroh’s wife committed suicide after a nearly decade-long struggle with depression stemming from post-partum complications. Iroh and his son, Lu Ten, were crushed. 

SUKI, V-O: Iroh was kind enough to let us read her final letter to them. In it, she asked that Iroh leave the company and follow his passion for poetry and philosophy. However, she spent most of the letter assuring Lu Ten of her love for him. In deference to their family we won’t be sharing any direct quotes here. 

KATARA, V-O: Soon after her funeral, Iroh officially resigned from his position in the company and washed his hands of all their dealings. Azulon was not particularly sympathetic to this, and wrote him out of his will in a fit of rage. Iroh did not respond. He packed himself and his son up and moved to San Francisco to teach at City College of San Francisco. Back in San Ramon, Ozai was getting married. He had a reputation in the company for being great in wealth management, but a cold man. Azulon was hoping that by marrying, his image would change to something more home-oriented; a family man. Ozai Sozin married Ursa Amano in what was by all accounts a political marriage. Ursa’s family was wealthy, so was Ozai’s and it was a show of Japanese-American alliance to marry off their children to one another. They were married in a wedding so large that it made it to the front page of weddings section of the Los Angeles Times. 

SUKI, V-O: Nine months later, Ursa was in labor. Ozai made it known that he was convinced the baby was a boy. In a roundabout way, he wasn’t wrong. But, at that moment, it seemed that he had been incorrect. The baby was assigned female and given a name - one we won’t disclose here. This baby would grow up to be Zuko. Ozai was devastated. He wanted a son to secure his legacy within the company and, in his eyes, a daughter wasn’t going to cut it. 

JEONG JEONG: Oh, Ozai was furious. He was not at all pleased that the baby was a girl. 

KATARA, V-O: This is Jeong Jeong, a man who worked with Ozai closely during this time. He has since cut ties with the company, citing moral differences with the C-Suite team for his departure. 

JEONG JEONG: At one point pretty soon after the birth, Ozai was at my home. He was furious, I could tell. He had this look in his eye when he was angry, this intensity, like he could light you on fire with his eyes. He told me about a fight he’d had with Ursa, about how he was furious that they’d had a girl instead of the boy he wanted. He was pacing up and down my study. I’d offered him a drink, and he’d accepted, but he never even touched it. He just held it as he walked and talked. He said, “I have half a mind to kill the damn baby and start again. Just call it SIDs or something and get her pregnant again; get it right this time.” 

SUKI: Oh, wow. 

JEONG JEONG: That moment is burned into my mind. It’s a terrifying thing, to hear a man say something like that about his days-old child. I’m ashamed to say that I said nothing. I was shocked, of course, and I could never condone such a thing. Life is so precious; I could never bear to agree with violence like that against a child. But at that moment I didn’t say anything. And he just kept on pacing, like he hadn’t just said something so terrible I can barely stand to repeat it. 

KATARA, V-O: We reached out to Ozai and were shocked to find that he replied. He told us that he refused to speak about Zuko anymore, used Zuko’s deadname, and delivered some potent legal threats if we reached out to him any further. However, Jeong Jeong wasn’t the only person to tell us about Ozai’s propensity for violence. More than one Board Official at their wealth management company has reached out to us, corroborating Jeong Jeong’s interpretation of Ozai’s character as deeply violent. Of course, that violence would come back in a horrific way, many years down the line. 

SUKI: At the time, Ozai did nothing. Zuko was allowed to grow up, although he was raised female, and with very strict, gendered rules for what he could and couldn’t do. Two years after his birth, Zuko’s younger sister, Azula was born. Although Azula was assigned female at birth, Ozai did not make any noises about her gender. In fact, Ozai would go on to favour Azula in all things, holding her up as his pride and joy. It’s impossible to say what changed his mind about having a daughter. 

KATARA: In 2007, Azulon died. In his will, he left the company, the CEO position, and his palatial home to Ozai. Ozai moved his family into Azulon’s home and took to running the company. According to Jeong Jeong and Iroh, the family burned through nannies at an astonishing rate, although all of them were bound to NDAs and all of their pay seemed to be below the table. Iroh couldn’t say why they quit, but Jeong Jeong had his theories. 

JEONG JEONG: I can’t know for certain, of course, as I didn’t live with them. But Ozai had a reputation for infidelity along with violence, and I don’t get the sense that Ursa was willing to stand for that. Ursa was a strong woman, stronger than Ozai could easily control, and this led to some fierce clashes of will. I was privy to a few. They were nasty fights; nothing was off limits, and they didn’t care who saw. It must have been a scary home to grow up in. 

SUKI-V-O: Iroh confirmed that he didn’t think Ursa and Ozai to be a good match. By the time they married, Iroh had moved to San Francisco with his son and didn’t see much of the couple. But he was there for their engagement, and noted that he could see the trouble brewing. ‘They weren’t well matched,’ he said, ‘and everyone knew it. Even them.’ In 2008, that came to a head. Ursa filed for divorce, something that was strictly forbidden in their prenup. It was messy and dragged on for years, punctuated by legal proceedings and very public fights. The divorce was finalized in 2011, three years after Ursa initially filed. By that point, she had no money and had lost custody of both children. She was barred from any visitations, and Ozai had a restraining order placed on her, not allowing her within twenty feet of Zuko or Azula.

KATARA, V-O: We haven’t been able to reach her directly for comment. We spoke to her parents, but they would not tell us anything in order to protect her privacy. “She’s changed her name and started her life anew,” they said. “She wants nothing to do with that cursed family anymore.” 

{}

Zuko is sitting in a boardroom, looking at a woman with full lips, a narrow nose, and a kind smile. Mr. Piandao is sitting on Zuko’s left. Zuko cannot see him without turning his head. Uncle is sitting on his right, his hand warm and steady on Zuko’s knee. The collar of the dress shirt is starchy on his neck. He feels choked, but good. He has never worn a suit before. He doesn’t think he likes it. Maybe he would like it more if--  _ Don’t think of elephants. Don’t think of elephants. Don’t think of elephants.  _ Maybe he’ll like it more another time. 

The woman, the lawyer, makes eye contact. It makes him itch, makes his eyes go fuzzy and his brain feel like soup. He looks down at the table. “So, Ms. Li.” 

“Objection. Our defendant would like his name to be on the record as Zuko Sozin, pronouns he/him/his.” 

The judge, who is sitting too far to the left for Zuko to see, speaks up. “Overruled. I’m sorry, but her legal name is Li Sozin. That is what she will have to be on the record. You are more than welcome to have her name and birth certificate updated at a later date, but for now...” Zuko turns to see her spread her pale, veiny hands in a gesture that he cannot decipher. It feels like a smack to the face. 

The lawyer speaks up again, a broad smile back in place. “As I was saying. Ms. Li, how would you describe the incidents on the night of June 20th, 2013.” 

Zuko opens his mouth, forces the words through his lips. He follows the night the way Piandao coached him, keeping in as many details as he can. “We were having dinner,” he hears himself say. “I told him that I had something important to say. He was already upset with me because I’d gotten an A- in algebra one, so I thought--” 

“You thought, why not provoke him further, make things worse for yourself?” 

“Objection, leading the witness.” 

“Objection sustained. Keep it clean, Abreu.” 

The lawyer smiles. It looks like a grimace. Zuko keeps talking. 

“So, I thought that since he was already mad at me, I might as well take all the punishment at once - no use stretching it out over months. I told him I’m trans, and I want to go by the name Zuko.” Zuko’s hands are shaking. He cannot feel his lips or tongue. Beneath Uncle’s palm, his knee is bouncing so high it nearly slams Uncle’s hand into the table above with each pass. “He was furious. He yelled at me for a long time. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to make him even angrier.” 

“Do you remember what he said?” When Zuko glances up at the lawyer, there is almost something sympathetic in her eyes. 

“He said he hated me, that he should have killed me when I was a baby. He said that I was a girl, that I’d always be a girl.” There are tears running down his face. He wants to be anywhere but where he is. “He said he’d never loved me and he never would love me; that I was worthless, and a failure. He said that I was sick, and broken. He said that my mom had broken me, but he would fix me. He said that suffering would be my teacher. Then, he-- he--.” 

He is crying too hard to speak. He cannot breathe. He cannot breathe; he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t-- Uncle’s chest is warm and smells of jasmine pearls. He holds him, holds Zuko as the proceedings spin on without him. Piandao is speaking, but Zuko can barely hear him through all the padding on that side of his face. Zuko can only stutter through breaths against Uncle’s chest, feel Uncle’s small hand running up and down his back, feel them breathe against one another. 

“It’s alright, Zuko,” Uncle is saying. “It’s alright. You don’t have to speak anymore.” 

{} 

[MUSIC RISES SLOWLY BEHIND THEIR WORDS, AN OMINOUS, NERVOUS MELODY] 

SUKI, V-O: In the two years following the divorce, Ozai’s company was struggling. The recovery from the recession had been slow and minimal. Clients were unhappy and Ozai was increasingly autocratic in his control over the company. According to board members, some included in the initial corroboration of Ozai’s character and others completely different, he was using his sway to lead the company in a manner that benefited his own bottom line, but sacrificed the moral fiber of the company. 

KATARA: Things were also growing more complicated in his home life. Iroh had moved about twelve miles away and was working at a UC school. His son had just passed away after getting into a car crash with a drunk driver. Iroh was once again devastated and he wanted to reconnect with his nieces. It was around this time that Iroh got in contact with Zuko and rekindled their relationship, which had been close before Iroh moved away. Zuko was a very angry child, prone to fits of rage and self-harm, even at a young age. Gender dysphoria mixed with incomplete support systems and a violent father gave him few tools for recourse. Iroh became his source of relief. 

SUKI: Iroh was the first person that Zuko came out to. Iroh was immediately supportive of him, and happily bought Zuko binders and more masculine clothing. Unfortunately, all of that clothing had to remain at Iroh’s home. Zuko was afraid that his father would become more violent if he was caught with masculine clothing or a binder. As it turned out, that fear was very well founded. During the summer of 2013, June 20th to be exact, Zuko came out to his father. According to court records confirmed by both parties, Ozai told Zuko outright that he, “should have killed Zuko was he was a baby”; that he had never loved Zuko; that Zuko was deviant, perverted, and a shame to their family. He then grabbed Zuko by his jaw and told him that he would “fix” Zuko and that pain would be his teacher. 

[THE MUSIC FADES TO A COMPLETE STOP] 

SUKI: In an act of profound violence, Ozai grabbed Zuko by the hair, dragged him into the kitchen, and pressed his face into the lit gas burner, which was on high. According to Iroh, Zuko’s skin looked like it was melting. 

KATARA: Zuko screamed so loudly that the neighbors on both sides heard. Iroh, who was there in an effort to support Zuko’s coming-out, charged at Ozai and restrained him with a belt around his wrists. He then called 9-1-1 and stayed with Zuko until the police and ambulance arrived. 

SUKI: Iroh would go on to press charges against Ozai for child abuse and endangerment of a minor’s life. The case settled for four million dollars and Iroh was granted full custody of Zuko. He tried to push to get custody of Azula, but had no such luck. As far as we have been able to discern, Azula still lives with her father. She was present the night that Ozai mutilated Zuko. She watched. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, friend! i'm proud of you for taking care of yourself! 
> 
> In the Jeong Jeong section, he describes an interaction he had with Ozai soon after Zuko's birth. In this described interaction, Ozai suggests unaliving the infant Zuko. He does not go through this with. 
> 
> In the scar section, Ozai presses Zuko's face to an open flame on a gas stove.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horror, dulled by panic, rises in Zuko’s chest. He doesn’t know. The thought is hollow in his mind, something he understands should be alarming but is somehow too vast to wrap his head around. There’s no way Zhao doesn’t know. There’s no way. Yet he’s still looking at Zuko like he expects an answer, like Zuko needs to explain why he sticks himself in the ass with a massive needle every week. 
> 
> “My testosterone shots are a weekly injection,” he says. “They’re hormone treatment - part of my medical transition.” 
> 
> That sharpness hones even further. Maybe Zhao is sobering up, or maybe he was never as fucked up as Zuko thought in the first place. He’s always been shit at reading people. Zhao sits up a little straighter, squints his eyes. “Medical transition,” he says, like it’s a foreign term. 
> 
> Zuko cannot feel his lips. His tongue is numb to the root. He desperately wants to cry, or hide in Uncle’s shirt. He is simultaneously thirteen and twenty, his body lost in a sea of memories and his mind painfully aware of the present. “My medical transition from--” his voice breaks. He pushes forward, one word then the next. “From female to male. I’m trans.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. Things get heavy in this chapter, friend. Buckle up because the plot is thickening. Transphobia makes its appearance here. 
> 
> Zhao uses dehumanizing pronouns in the second section. Skip everything between "SUKI: We're simply trying to ascertain the facts" and "ZHAO: Get out of my office."

Zuko looks at his hands. They are pale and thin in his lap. Across from him, Chelsea waits patiently. He opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. He closes his mouth. 

The words well in his throat, pressing against the inside of his forehead like he could push them directly out of his brain and straight through the air to hers. But that is not an option. He knows it isn’t. 

“I don’t want to be angry anymore.” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Chelsea nod. He keeps talking, eyes on the dreamcatcher that hangs from his wall. “I’m tired of being angry all the time; of feeling like I-- I need to be angry or I won’t get anything done, won’t be good enough. But I’m miserable. And lonely. And I’m… I’m tired of running because I have something to prove. I want to run because  _ I _ want to run.” 

“And why do you want to run?” 

“I-- I don’t think I know yet. But I know I don’t want to stop. I can’t. Not when there’s still so many miles to be run - so many sights I haven’t yet seen.”

{}

[IN THE BACKGROUND, THE SOUND OF A DOOR OPENING, AND AN AUTOMATED DOORBELL RINGING. QUIETLY, KATARA CAN BE HEARD ASKING TO SPEAK WITH COACH ZHAO AND THE SECRETARY SENDING THEM ALONG.] 

KATARA, V-O: We knew there were still some people we needed to talk to before the court proceedings were underway, and Coach Zhao was high on that list. We’d been trying to get in contact with him for nearly the entire two months we’ve been working on this season with no luck. 

SUKI, V-O: He was always just gone from the office, or in an important meeting that he couldn’t be disturbed from. Eventually, the excuses secretaries were giving us became ridiculous. They were telling us that he was at the florist-- 

KATARA, V-O: The dentist 

SUKI, V-O: The mechanic 

KATARA, V-O: Everywhere but where he should have been - his office. 

SUKI, V-O: Coach Zhao was asked to step down from his position as head coach once Zuko’s case reached the courts. He did so, but was kept on in a consultancy capacity - a detail of his so-called removal that was very conveniently kept out of the broader press. So, we knew he had to be in his office at some hour of the day, or working in some capacity. In the end, we had to contact him at his private email address in order to get in touch with him. 

KATARA, V-O: This, after making a combined thirty-three calls to his office and personal extension, as well as sending five emails to his official email address explaining our reason for wanting to meet, all of which went unanswered and unreturned. 

SUKI, V-O: Once we reached him, he seemed less than enthusiastic to meet, but ultimately agreed. Initially we were given a fifteen minute window to interact with him one-on-one. He didn’t want us to have any recording devices and made that known. In return, we made it clear that we would only meet if we were allowed to record, and this derailed conversations for a good bit. In the end, he agreed to meet for only five minutes with recording devices. We took what we could get. 

KATARA, V-O: Here’s the material we have, in its entirety. 

KATARA: Hi! It’s good to finally meet you! 

[AN UNINTELLIGIBLE NOISE FROM COACH ZHAO] 

ZHAO: Please, have a seat. 

SUKI: For the record, I’m Suki Jin. 

KATARA: I’m Katara Nutaraq. 

[A BRIEF PAUSE FILLED ONLY BY THE SOUND OF A CHAIR CREAKING] 

SUKI: Coach Zhao, would you please state your name for the record. 

ZHAO: I’m  _ former _ Head Coach Lin Zhao. 

SUKI: Thank you. Our time is limited, so we’d like to begin our questions immediately. When-- 

ZHAO: Be my guest. 

[ANOTHER PAUSE, THIS TIME COMPLETELY SILENT.] 

SUKI: When did you become Head Coach of Harvard’s men’s track team? 

ZHAO: The summer before the 2017/2018 academic year. 

KATARA: And, at this point, you had already recruited Zuko for the team? 

ZHAO: Yes. 

SUKI: According to court documents, you were not aware, at the time, that Zuko was trans. Is-- 

ZHAO: Are you insinuating that I perjured myself? 

SUKI: We’re simply trying to ascertain the facts. 

ZHAO: No. At the time, I was  _ not _ aware that it was trans. 

KATARA: I’m sorry, what? 

ZHAO: I said, at the time, I was not aware that it was not a man. 

SUKI: Allow me to clarify - you’re referring to Zuko as an ‘it’. 

ZHAO: There isn’t another word, is there? 

KATARA: And you don’t think this is discriminating against Zuko on the basis of gender or sex? 

ZHAO: If your only intention in coming here was to incriminate me, I suggest you leave. 

SUKI: That wasn’t our intention at all. We simply wanted to get as many sides of this story as we could. Getting back, do you or do you not think that what you just said, referring to Zuko as an ‘it’, is an example of discrimination? 

ZHAO: Get out of my office. 

KATARA: Was that or was that not an example of-- 

ZHAO: GET OUT OF MY OFFICE! 

SUKI: Coach Lin Zhao, thank you for taking the time to speak with us. 

ZHAO: I SAID, GET OUT! 

KATARA: Have a nice day, sir! Thank you again. 

[SOUNDS OF SHUFFLING AND A DOOR CLOSING AS KATARA AND SUKI EXIT THE OFFICE. QUIETLY, THE SOUNDS OF MUSIC RETURN, SLOWLY BUT GAINING MOMENTUM AND FORCE. THEN, THE MUSIC GROWS QUIET ONCE MORE.] 

KATARA, V-O: This was the full extent of our interactions with former Head Coach Lin Zhao. 

SUKI, V-O: We tried to get in touch with him after, but we were not successful. 

{}

Zuko stares at the hotel door, begs his hand to reach up and knock. It hangs limp at his side. His heart is in his throat, a wounded thing trying to survive, beating so hard he thinks his whole body might explode. He inhales deeply, exhales slowly. 

_ It’s fine _ , he coaches himself.  _ I’m not doing anything wrong. I was taking my testosterone shot, the same shot I’ve been taking since I was seventeen. It’s prescribed to me and completely legal _ . He raises his hand and lays three sharp raps on the door. Nobody answers. There isn’t even sound on the other side to indicate that somebody is moving towards him. Silence. He knocks again, the same three flicks of his wrist. This time there is shuffling, then Zhao opens the door. 

He is shirtless, hair mussed and eyes bloodshot. A flare of panic bursts bright red in Zuko’s mind. Zhao looks at him blankly for a moment, then seems to blink back to himself. He waves Zuko in with a smile that sits somewhere between tired and leery. Unbidden, rumors come to Zuko’s mind, whispers in the dubious privacy of locker rooms that Zhao sleeps with some of his runners, that he gets them sponsorships if they’ll suck him off or let him jerk off in front of them. Another flare of panic shoots through Zuko as he steps fully into Zhao’s hotel room. 

_ I shouldn’t be here _ , he thinks, even as Zhao is closing the door behind them. 

“So,” Zhao begins. “You’re shooting up in the bathroom. What’s that about? I’ve never known you to have a problem keeping up your… physique.” Zhao’s eyes, even darker in the lamplight of the room, rake up Zuko’s body, paying close attention to the v of his thighs. Zuko takes a step away from him, clenches his fist and releases it before Zhao’s sluggish gaze can catch the gesture. 

“I wasn’t shooting up. I was taking my testosterone shot, which Chris would have known if he’d stopped to ask me.” 

Something in Zhao’s eyes sharpen. “Why are you taking testosterone, Sozin? Hoping to fuck your girlfriend a little longer?” 

Horror, dulled by panic, rises in Zuko’s chest.  _ He doesn’t know _ . The thought is hollow in his mind, something he understands should be alarming but is somehow too vast to wrap his head around. There’s no way Zhao doesn’t know. There’s no way. Yet he’s still looking at Zuko like he expects an answer, like Zuko needs to explain why he sticks himself in the ass with a massive needle every week. 

“My testosterone shots are a weekly injection,” he says. “They’re hormone treatment - part of my medical transition.” 

That sharpness hones even further. Maybe Zhao is sobering up, or maybe he was never as fucked up as Zuko thought in the first place. He’s always been shit at reading people. Zhao sits up a little straighter, squints his eyes. “Medical transition,” he says, like it’s a foreign term. 

Zuko cannot feel his lips. His tongue is numb to the root. He desperately wants to cry, or hide in Uncle’s shirt. He is simultaneously thirteen and twenty, his body lost in a sea of memories and his mind painfully aware of the present. “My medical transition from--” his voice breaks. He pushes forward, one word then the next. “From female to male. I’m trans.” 

{}

[THE FAINT BUZZ OF PEOPLE SPEAKING OVER ONE ANOTHER IN A LARGE ROOM. THERE IS SOME ECHO, INDICATING THAT THE ROOM IS VERY LARGE AND OPEN. THE SOUNDS OF FABRIC SWISHING, THEN A SIGH]

KATARA: Okay, we’re sitting in the press section of the courtroom, waiting for the proceedings to begin. 

SUKI: The room is packed right now, and there seems to be a real age divide in the room. On the left, behind Coach Zhao, there are mostly adults - middle aged folks in suits and generally looking wealthy, for lack of a better descriptor. On the right, behind Zuko and Iroh are mostly college students. 

KATARA: I mean college students are technically adults, but-- 

SUKI: You know what I mean! One side has money and the other has youth. 

[AN INTENSE, QUIET REFRAIN BEGINS BEHIND KATARA AND SUKI AS THEY TRANSITION TO VOICE OVER]

KATARA, V-O: Suki is right. The room is absolutely packed, with clear overflow from Zuko’s side into Harvard’s. Students have come in everything from business casual to jeans and t-shirts. Many are holding small signs in their laps, as though ready to burst into protest at a moment’s notice. 

SUKI, V-O: Tensions are already running high in the room, but so far everyone has kept their calm. The judge presiding over the hearing has his hand on the gavel already. 

[THE MUSIC SLOWS TO A STOP ON AN INQUISITIVE NOTE, THE CHORD UNRESOLVED. IT LAPSES INTO SILENCE, THEN THE RECORDINGS BEGIN]

JUDGE MATTHEWS: Today we are hearing the case of Sozin v. Harvard. 

KATARA, V-O: This is Judge Amadeus Matthews. He is an older Black man with close-cut grey hair and a neat grey mustache. He is known for running a strict courtroom and tolerating zero nonsense from either side. He doesn’t generally preside over hearings like this - court records indicate that white collar crimes are more his wheelhouse. 

JUDGE MATTHEWS: Prosecution, please make your opening arguments. 

PIANDAO: Thank you, Your Honor. My name is Ezekiel Atushi Piandao, and I was to dispel some notions. Zuko Sozin is the name you are likely familiar with - an outstanding student, prodigious track runner, and tireless advocate for students at Harvard University. But he is not who we are fighting for today; at least, he is not where this story ends. We are fighting today for every trans student who walks through Harvard University’s doors. We are fighting for every young trans child who wants to know that they are safe seeking higher education in the twenty-first century. We are fighting for the future of equality. That fight did not begin with Zuko - but we can mark a new chapter of nuance, dignity, and empowerment with his case. 

{}

Anxiety has been a hot ball in Zuko’s stomach since he got the email. There was no subject line. It didn’t even come from Zhao’s official email address. Instead his personal yahoo account slid into Zuko’s personal inbox with instructions he never wanted to receive:  _ Be at my office tomorrow at 2pm. _ No sign off. No salutation. Just those seven words. 

Zuko checks his watch. It’s 1:55pm. His phone confirms this, a goofy photo of Uncle hovering just below the white numbers. Uncle hadn’t wanted Zuko to go. He thought it was suspicious, said Zuko’s safety was more important than Zhao’s opinion. Zuko could turn back. He hadn’t gotten out of the car yet. He could strap himself back in, turn on the car, back out of the parking spot, and be on his merry way. But he was here now. And if Zhao had something to say, he’d rather hear it in private than in front of the whole team, as was surely Zhao’s back up plan. The coach had a penchant for public humiliation. 

Zuko takes a deep breath, tries to steady his nerves, his shaking hands. He can do this. He can do this. As he steps off the elevator and into the small set of offices that comprises the athletic department, warning bells are ringing in his mind. The secretary isn’t in. A small sign says they’re on a lunch break. Zuko checks the time, then stalls with his phone in his hand. At 1:58 he opens his voice memo and presses the start button. As casually as he can manage he slips the phone into the chest pocket of his jacket, oriented butt-out so the microphone gets a good read.  _ I won’t need that _ , he thinks, even as his intuition insists otherwise. On a wave of deja vu, Zuko stands, walks down the short hallway, and knocks on Zhao’s door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, friend! I'm still super proud of you!! 
> 
> Zhao refers to Zuko as an "it." Zuko does not use "it/its" pronouns, and Zhao's goal was to dehumanize Zuko.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko watches the sun slowly rise over the horizon. He watches it mount the nearby buildings, kissing the turf and rubber alike. The cold air freezes his teeth, makes his head throb in a familiar way. As he runs, he allows himself to acknowledge that he missed this. He missed running this way, safe behind the fence that loops the entire track and field, watching the dew rise off the plastic grass. He missed getting his morning run in, covering miles without ever leaving the familiar confines of the outdoor track. Soon, it will be too cold for this. He will be forced indoors, forced under fluorescent lights and into the dry heat of the gym. For now, he runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, friend! things get really, really scary in this one. this is the worst of the transphobia. 
> 
> To be honest, the whole section is very transphobic. I can't in good conscience screen some of it and not all of it. If you're concerned, skip everything between "ZUKO: Is there something I can help you with?" and "ZHAO: Go ahead. Report me. See how far it gets you." I will summarize at the end. PLEASE stay safe!

PIANDAO: Your Honor, I would now like to present to the court an audio clip. This was recorded by Mr. Sozin on April 15th, 2020 - the day he was taken off the team. The night before, Mr. Zhao had sent Zuko an email from his personal Yahoo account. The message was sent to Zuko’s personal email without a subject line or salutation. It had only a single sentence - an order: Zuko was to report to Zhao’s office at 2pm the next day. 

[A FEW FOOTSTEPS AS PIANDAO CROSSES THE FLOOR] 

PIANDAO: We’ve already heard from some of Zuko’s teammates about Zhao’s approach to training and discipline. He has a known penchant for humiliation, both public and private. Zuko, wishing to avoid a public dressing down, did as instructed and appeared promptly at 2pm. Although Zhao didn’t know this, Zuko had decided to record the incident. That recording is what I will play for you now. I warn you in advance: Zhao’s words are graphic and reprehensible, to say the least. 

SUKI, V-O: For ease of listener comprehension, we’ve obtained the recording and cleaned up the audio. Thanks to our sound engineer, Sokka Nutaraq, for making this audio file more accessible. 

[THE SOUND OF ZUKO BREATHING AND CLEARING HIS THROAT. THEN, THREE SHARP KNOCKS AT WHAT SOUNDS LIKE A WOODEN DOOR. A MUFFLED MALE VOICE SHOUTS FOR ZUKO TO ENTER] 

ZUKO: Coach Zhao? You asked to see me? 

ZHAO: Yes. 

ZUKO: Is there something I can help you with? 

ZHAO: Yes, actually, there is. What would help me more than anything is you quitting the team. 

ZUKO: I-- I’m sorry. What? 

ZHAO: You heard me. You’re a disgrace to nature, and you don’t deserve to parade about like you’re a man when you’re clearly just a confused mutation. But that isn’t really my problem - I couldn’t give a rats ass what freaks like you do. The problem is more that you’re on my team, and that cannot continue for obvious reasons. So do me a favour, save me some legal hoops, and quit.

ZUKO: Sir, I-- I don’t-- 

ZHAO: Let me make this simple for you. You aren’t a man. You can’t run on the men’s team. And you’ve fucked up your body too much to run for the women’s team, pumping yourself full of testosterone and what not. If I kick you off the team I’ll have to jump through a million bullshit legal hoops. _But_ , if you remove yourself our problem is solved. I’m saved having to remove you from the team in an official capacity. 

ZUKO: You can’t ask me to do that. 

ZHAO: I just did. 

ZUKO: No, I mean, it’s-- it’s probably illegal. And you can’t kick me off the team; it's a violation of Title IX protections. 

ZHAO: Do I strike you as the type of man who gives a fuck about stupid rules like Title IX? Title IX works for the University. They’ll do as I say. They’ll do their little investigation and find that I’ve done nothing wrong - that my actions don’t reach the litmus of discrimination. And besides you have no proof. The secretary isn’t here. There are no security cameras in this department. There’s no official paper trail. For all they know, you were coming here to suck my dick. So, what’s your plan? Make a big fuss about how I told you to off yourself, nothing comes back, you’ve made the track team into a target for social justice warrior nuts, and then what? Your teammates hate you. Your coaches hate you. Nobody trusts you. They’ll push you off the team, or I’ll have grounds to kick you off. You lose your precious scholarship. You kill yourself. It’s the same end game no matter what. 

ZUKO: So you admit that this is wrong. You know this is illegal. You wouldn’t have done all this if you didn’t know full well that it was against a thousand laws. 

ZHAO: What I’m doing is protecting the school from baseless allegations. 

ZUKO: What you’re doing is cruel and wrong! How could you possibly think this is okay?! I should report you right now for harassment! 

[THERE IS A SUDDEN SCRAPING NOISE AND HEAVY FOOTSTEPS. ZHAO’S VOICE IS SUDDENLY MUCH CLOSER TO THE MICROPHONE] 

ZHAO: Listen here, you little piece of shit. 

ZUKO: Get away from me. 

ZHAO: There are a thousand fast runners that can replace you. There are a million long-distance champs that could crush you. 

ZUKO: I said, get away from me! 

ZHAO: SHUT UP! Shut the fuck up you disgusting freak! 

[A LONG PAUSE. BOTH ARE BREATHING HEAVILY] 

ZHAO: As I was saying. You aren’t necessary to the team. And worse you lied to get here. You’re a cheater. You don’t deserve to be on this team, and you certainly don’t deserve to keep living. So do us both a favour and end this charade now. Kill yourself. Quit. Whatever the fuck you do, I never want to see your disgusting face ever again. You’re a disgrace. You should never have been born. 

[HEAVY FOOTSTEPS AND THE GROAN OF AN OFFICE CHAIR AS ZHAO SITS BACK DOWN. THERE IS FURTHER SILENCE]

ZHAO: Go ahead. Report me. See how far it gets you. 

ZUKO: I will. 

ZHAO: Look, you’re only making this more difficult for both of us. If you don’t do as I’ve asked in the next week I’m going to put you off the team anyway. 

[A VERY LONG SILENCE]

ZHAO: You’re dismissed. Get out of my sight. 

[THE SOUND OF THE DOOR OPENING THEN CLOSING. ZUKO’S BREATHING IS SHAKY AND LOUD IN THE MICROPHONE. STEADY STEPS MOVE FOR A LONG WHILE, THEN BURST SUDDENLY INTO A RUN. THE JINGLE OF A DOOR OPENING. THE RUNNING CONTINUES BRIEFLY. THEN THE SOUND OF VIOLENT RETCHING AND A WET SOUND AS VOMIT HITS THE PAVEMENT. ZUKO SPITS A FEW TIMES. THEN THE SHUFFLE OF FABRIC AS ZUKO PULLS HIS PHONE OUT OF HIS POCKET AND STOPS RECORDING] 

[SILENCE] 

SUKI, V-O: Now back to the courtroom. 

PIANDAO: Your Honor, I can only speak for myself. But I speak with utter certainty when I say that I would never want someone to speak to my child like that. I would not want someone to speak to my classmate like that. I would not even want someone to speak to a stranger like that. What Mr.Zhao suggested is something out of anyone’s worst nightmare. Yet it is a waking reality for Zuko Sozin. Allow me to be very clear: Zuko was correct. He was right to say that Zhao was violating his rights as guaranteed by Title IX. He was right to say that Zhao’s actions were premeditated. And yet Zhao was right as well. We are in court today because the Title IX office at Harvard did exactly as Zhao anticipated: they did not do their duty to protect Zuko. That is why we are in court today. Because the strongest and the most vulnerable are often the same, and they are often failed by those systems designed to safeguard them. 

[A PROFOUND SILENCE. NOT A SINGLE PERSON MAKES A NOISE] 

{}

In the end, Zuko isn’t in court when Judge Amadeus reaches his verdict. No matter what his brain insists, and no matter what Zhao may have wanted, his life didn’t actually stop that fateful day in April. He still had classes to take, studying to do, shifts at the Jasmine Dragon to cover. The spring semester ended, then the fall semester began. He has a thesis to draft, connections to make, scholarship and grant essays to write. Though Uncle seemed to think otherwise, there was more to his life than track. He knows that now.

So, on the day that Amadeus finds that Harvard University violated Zuko’s right as a student to participate without discrimination on the basis of gender or sex, Zuko is taking a midterm. He finishes the exam, places it on the professor’s desk with a small smile spared for Claire. She waves him out, quietly wishing him luck on the court proceeding. It’s weird, knowing that so many people know. The last time there was a major lawsuit involving him, nobody outside his family knew. This time, the whole world is watching - and listening, he supposes. Katara and Suki have done incredible work covering the case. He’s thinking about their diligence when his phone finally turns out and immediately begins vibrating violently in his hand. Texts from Uncle, Suki, Piandao, Katara, Toph, Aang-- practically everyone he talks to has messaged him at least three times. Sokka and Uncle have called multiple times, as has Piandao, but only his lawyer has left a message. He listens to it in the corner of the stairwell, eyes frantically scanning the terrible auto-captioning as he listens. 

“Hello, Zuko! This is Piandao. Incredible news: Amadeus has ruled that Harvard was in the wrong and you’re to be reinstated. A few minutes ago Harvard released an official statement informing the public that Zhao has been completely removed from his post - something that should have happened months ago, but there you have it. Your friends are--” a few seconds of unintelligible noise. “Apologies. As I was saying, your friends are very excited on your behalf. Sokka, in particular, is texting at a speed I believe to be inhuman.” 

Zuko blushes deeply, despite the fact that nobody is there to see him. 

“Give me a call back when you feel ready. Or shoot me an email. It’s nothing bad, of course. I just want to know how you’re holding up and make sure there are no further charges you want to press. I want to remind you that our options are open regarding pushing for compensation for emotional damages. Ultimately that’s up to you. I’ll check back in a week if I haven’t heard from you. I’ll talk to you soon, Zuko! Bye.” 

Alone, tucked into the corner of a dusty stairwell on an otherwise random October afternoon, Zuko sobs with relief.

{}

[THE ROAR OF THE CROWD OUTSIDE IS PUNISHINGLY LOUD. THERE IS PANTING AND THE SOUND OF FEET STRIKING CONCRETE.] 

SUKI: Mr. Zhao! Mr. Zhao! Judge Amadeus has just found you guilty of discrimination on the basis of gender and sex. How do you feel about that? 

NGUYEN: My client has no comment at this time. 

KATARA: Mr. Zhao, Harvard University has just released an official-- 

NGUYEN: No comment. 

KATARA: An official statement removing you from your position 

ZHAO: I HAVE NO COMMENT! 

KATARA: You have no feelings about the matter? 

[THE BRIEF SOUNDS OF SHOES SKIDDING AND SHUFFLING ACROSS PAVEMENT. A FEW GRUNTS. NGUYEN AND ZHAO’S VOICES ARE STRAINED]

ZHAO: I SAID NO FUCKING COMMENT! YOU DISGUSTING WHORES! YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING--

NGUYEN: We came through this exit to avoid reporters! My client has no further comment at this time! Thank you! 

SUKI: Thank you so much Mr. Nguyen, Mr. Zhao! 

KATARA: Thank you both! 

[SILENCE. QUIETLY, MUSIC RISES. IT’S AN INQUISITIVE MELODY WITH A GENTLE, UNEVEN BEAT. IT SEEMS CYCLICAL AND OFF-BALANCE AT THE SAME TIME.]

KATARA, V-O: So, the court case is over. Zuko is once again the victor after brutal circumstances and cruel people attempt to knock him down. 

SUKI, V-O: But the story isn’t over quite yet. There are a number of similar cases coming up the pipeline related to this case. In the few days that have passed, lawyers across the nation have been pouring over Judge Amadeus’s ruling, determining how best to use it as a precedence for their own clients. Zuko’s case has become a watershed. 

KATARA, V-O: You may not have noticed in the flurry of activity, but someone very important wasn’t here. Zuko wasn’t able to be in court today - he had a midterm. Life didn’t stop for him. And that’s another thing we have to address: in many ways, Zuko’s case is an anomaly. Most cases like his would never have become cases at all. The University would have quietly dismissed him, just as they did, without any official issue had Zuko not known his rights, and had Iroh not insisted that those rights be respected. 

SUKI, V-O: That is the crucial link that’s missing in so many cases involving discrimination against trans students, and particularly trans students of colour. Zuko’s Uncle, Iroh, had the funds and the knowledge to put pressure where pressure was needed, contact the appropriate legal aid, and push this case into court. Many trans students _don’t_ have that. Even when they know that what their university has done is wrong, the money and knowledge of the legal system just isn’t readily available to them. 

KATARA, V-O: Many students have to rely on what Iroh did simply to boost Zuko’s spirits: petitions and crowdfunding. And whilst crowdfunding can be powerful, and petitions can push change, they are much less likely to result in positive change for trans students without the help of legal aid. This isn’t to say that you shouldn’t participate in these - far from it! Please don’t misunderstand our point, which is this: Zuko is incredibly privileged. 

SUKI, V-O: Yes, he works very hard and is on multiple scholarships. Yes he is a student of colour at a historically white institution. But his family was and is behind him. His Uncle had the funds to make two major lawsuits in his life happen. And that’s no small thing. So, the next time you see a petition or crowd-funding link, send in what you can. Sign your name. You’re helping someone else get the support Zuko had, and getting them one step closer to an outcome like this one. 

{}

When Zuko wakes, he is sticky. He wakes in glimpses, his eyes trying to calibrate to the light in the room. A warm glow from beneath his door; Sokka’s chest rising and falling beneath his arm; the cream wall with a small hole in the paint; Sokka’s eyes, warm and deep brown, on his. 

“You with me?” 

Zuko makes a vague noise of agreement, pressing his face further into Sokka’s sleep-warm shoulder. Falling for Katara’s older brother as she and her best friend dug through his life to find the truth about him and his case was hardly part of the plan. But he can’t say that he minds now that he’s here, pressed against what feels like miles of warm skin. 

“Fair warning: Toph and Aang are still out in the living room with Katara and Suki.” 

A noise of less-than-enthusiastic acknowledgement. 

“I know,” Sokka says, his hand drawing simple patterns along Zuko’s back. “Suki is keeping them in check but they really do want to see you.” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow, what?” 

Zuko groans, pushes himself onto his elbows to look down at Sokka. He doesn’t need to look in a mirror to know he looks like a wreck. After listening to Piandao’s voice-mail he took the bus home, dove into Sokka’s arms, and wept till he was too dehydrated to keep on crying. Sokka was quick to make him sip some water and bundle him into bed. That was an unknown number of hours ago. He’s flushed from sleep, his hair is probably a disaster zone, and his mouth tastes like a garbage fire. Sokka reaches up and traces the lines of his face like he’s something beautiful. 

“Tomorrow, what?” Sokka repeats, drawing them back to the unfortunate circumstances: far too many people wanting to talk to him, no matter how well-meaning they may be. Aang, in particular, sounds like far too much excitement for Zuko’s poor brain to handle. 

“They can come back tomorrow.” 

“I dunno, duckling. They seem pretty determined to stick you out. According to the group chat they’ve got dumplings and edamame from your favourite shop down on Maple.” 

“Don’t call me duckling.” The words are rote, heatless. Sokka’s smile is far too knowing for Zuko’s tastes. He flops down onto the bed, tucking his face into Sokka’s throat. “You can’t make me go out there.” 

“You’re right, I can’t. But I think you should. Your friends really want to celebrate with you.” 

“Ugh. How did I end up with friends?” 

Sokka snorts. “Your shining personality drew us all in.” He presses kisses into Zuko’s hair, a known weakness of Zuko’s. Cheater. “Your sense of humor. Your diligence. Your love. Your effortless ability to dad-friend all of us.” Sokka sounds far too sincere for this unknown hour. “I could go on, duckling.” 

Zuko heaves a sigh. He’s been outmaneuvered and he knows it. “Fine. But I’m not brushing my teeth before I go out, and I will be wearing my fuzzy socks.” 

Sokka just sighs sappily. “I love it when you threaten to be a normal human being.” 

_I love you_ , Zuko thinks. He doesn’t say it. The moment isn’t quite right, and he doesn’t want to share Sokka right after saying it. But he thinks it. He thinks it, dangles it at the tip of his tongue and presses a kiss to Sokka’s lips so he can taste it’s sweetness too. 

{}

KATARA: So, what were you thinking during that race? The one that sort of started it all, when Coach Lin Zhao first recruited you. Walk me through it. 

ZUKO: I woke up that morning filled with dread. 

SUKI, V-O: This is Zuko Sozin. For those of you who have been keeping track, this is the seventh and last episode of this season of Deep Dive, but our first time hearing from the track runner himself. He’s been reticent to speak with us, but since the court proceedings have come to a close, he’s ready to meet. 

ZUKO: I knew I would be taking a mercenary approach to schools. I was going to whatever school gave me the most money. That was the only way I was going to college. My preference was a school with a good track team that would also have strong academics. My priority was being close to Uncle. He’s older, it’s just the two of us -- I just didn’t want him to be alone, and I certainly didn’t want to move across the nation. Harvard was the best fit for all of those things y’know? It was a shot in a million, but it was my dream school for sure. And here was this Assistant Head Coach from Harvard coming to watch me run. It was my chance. 

KATARA: You came in first in every race you ran. 

ZUKO: Yeah. I guess I did. 

KATARA, V-O: Zuko is blushy and awkward. Though he is twenty, he looks more like a fifteen year old, something he readily acknowledges. 

ZUKO: It’s a trans man thing, I think. 

KATARA, V-O: He is wiry and tall, his voice smoky from testosterone. He is just as everyone describes him: quiet and reserved, frequently frowning, witty and sarcastic in turn, and deeply humble. He sits up straight but keeps his eyes firmly on the table as he speaks in stuttering admissions about himself and his running career thus far. 

ZUKO: I try not to get in my head about winning golds too much. My father… he was very obsessed with winning and success. Nothing my sister and I did was good enough. That-- I internalized that. I’m naturally good at running, to an extent. I was good at not giving up and I like to think I still am. But I was bad at-- at letting myself be good, if that makes sense. I couldn’t just win and let myself be happy about it. I would beat myself up, literally hitting myself if I fell below these ridiculous standards I’d made up in my mind about how fast I should have run. But, I think I’ve gotten better. Between Uncle Iroh, Coach Kyoshi, and my therapist, I’m learning new ways of thinking about success and what running means to me. 

KATARA: What do you mean by that? 

ZUKO: I mean… I dunno. Obviously I was hurt by being taken off the team. It’s an indignity, the type of low blow that you know intellectually the world could deal but don’t actually expect to happen, especially after having such a shitty childhood. But in some ways the break was good for me. I was burning out, running myself ragged in a very literal sense. This has forced me to remember why I run. I run because it gives me a sense of routine and purpose. I run because it makes me feel good about my body, something I’ve always struggled with. I run because even though it hurts it feels like flying. 

KATARA: Mmm. 

ZUKO: I think that even if Zhao had succeeded and kicked me off the team, I would have kept running. I would still be on the track in the mornings, doing my laps. Or I would be on the streets, running a few miles. Or, you know, I’d find a gym or something. There’s more to my life than running. I know that now. 

SUKI: But I think your Uncle’s point in that petition title, in making the petition in the first place, was that you deserve to keep running for Harvard’s men’s track team. You deserve to keep running for them, under their banner. They should be proud to have you. 

ZUKO: I don’t know about that. I hope my teammates _trust_ me. That’s what’s important to me, more than them being proud of me. I hope they trust that I’ve put in the work, trust that I’ve done what I can to be the best teammate I can be for them. But I don’t think they’ll be proud of me. Why would they be? 

IROH: Because you’re one of the best long-distance runners the school has ever seen, _and_ one of it’s strongest hurdlers? 

KATARA, V-O: Zuko has nothing to say to that, but a small smile pulls at his lips, tugging them up, favouring his unscarred side. 

{}

Zuko watches the sun slowly rise over the horizon. He watches it mount the nearby buildings, kissing the turf and rubber alike. The cold air freezes his teeth, makes his head throb in a familiar way. As he runs, he allows himself to acknowledge that he missed this. He missed running this way, safe behind the fence that loops the entire track and field, watching the dew rise off the plastic grass. He missed getting his morning run in, covering miles without ever leaving the familiar confines of the outdoor track. Soon, it will be too cold for this. He will be forced indoors, forced under fluorescent lights and into the dry heat of the gym. For now, he runs. 

The drone of the next song appears, quiet at first, but growing in his ear. A guitar joins it, simple and profound because of it. Zuko will be the first to admit that he does not have Uncle’s aptitude for poetry. But there is something about this song that makes him think there might be some tenderness, some hope left unplundered in him. Or maybe it is not unplundered at all. Maybe that’s the point. 

He thinks about Ozai. A mingled grief rises in him, the sort of emotion that cannot decide what it wants to be. He thinks of the ways in which his relationship to his father is quintessentially Asian: high on criticism, low on affection. He thinks of the ways in which his relationship to his father is anything but normal: the abuse, the isolation, the manipulation and beatings. Unbidden, he wonders if Ozai ever intended to break him. He wonders if Ozai truly loved him but somewhere along the line things were deeply broken, if violence was the only way Ozai knew how to show that something mattered to him. 

In all the ways that count, Zuko realizes, it doesn’t matter. It’s been seven years. Seven years of growth, and healing, and learning. Seven years of family, and friendship, and heartbreak. Seven years of loss and seven years of recovery. In his good ear, the words slip away. He pulls his phone out of his pocket; toggles until the song is on repeat. The drone returns, then the guitar, then Mitski’s voice. 

The words become something just short of a mantra, following him and echoing in his head even as the song repeats itself. Ozai wasn’t there, was he? Not when it mattered. Not when Zuko needed him. And still Zuko runs; still he puts one foot in front of the other, one foot and then another between himself and Ozai. Even here, when he is running in circles around himself, he is moving further and further from Ozai, learning how to exist without him, without his presence looming over Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko opens his mouth, feels the burn of air against his teeth, then lets the breath go. 

Onward, he runs. 

{}

_Today, I will wear my white button down_

_I’m tired of wanting more_

_I think I’m finally worn_

_For you have a way of promising things._

_And I’ve been a forest fire._

_I am a forest fire._

_And I am the fire_

_And I am the forest_

_And I am the witness watching it_

_I stand in the valley watching it_

_And you are not there at all._

_So, today I will wear my white button down_

_I can at least be neat_

_Walk out and be seen as clean_

_And I’ll go to work_

_And I’ll go to sleep_

_And I’ll love the littler things_

_I’ll love some littler things_

_-A Burning Hill, Mitski_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! i'm really proud of you for taking care of yourself! 
> 
> In this section, Zhao insists that Zuko cannot run on the men's team. He calls Zuko a number of transphobic slurs and suggests that Zuko unalive himself. 
> 
> that's all they wrote! i hope you enjoyed this work as much as i did. as i said earlier, this was a labour of love. anyone who's read my other stuff knows that i write a lot of childhood trauma, but zuko's character has spoken to me since childhood. it's been an honor (pun entirely intended) to write him and i can only hope i've done him justice.


End file.
